


Disciple

by small_secret



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Barney hates his job sometimes, Clarice misses her gun, Creepy Hannibal, Gen, Jack Crawford ruins lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_secret/pseuds/small_secret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh,<i> Jack</i>, why are you doing this? Why <i>another</i> student? I thought you were really much brighter than this." Hannibal taunts Jack about using Clarice to question him. She's not Jack's beloved Miriam Less, after all. (mash up of book and tv series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disciple

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly Jack snarling and Hannibal taunting and Clarice going silently 'FFS PSYCHOPATHIC MIDDLE AGED MEN' and Barney going 'ya'll are crazy'. (Yes, Barney.) Jack PoV. Scene taken from the end of Chapter Nine of Silence of the Lambs, dialogue paraphrased rather than copied. Largely gen but suggests of a past Hannibal/Will and sets up seeds of Hannibal/Clarice. [Kink meme response](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1375.html?thread=1218655#cmt1218655). Rated teen due to Jack's potty mouth.

The Baltimore Police do not like the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It's been that way for nearly two years since the capture of the Chesapeake Ripper, though that _nom de plume_ has simply become 'Hannibal the Cannibal' these days. The FBI had dragged out one of the Mid-Atlantic's most notorious serial killers from Baltimore's dwindling numbers of high society who hid right under the nose of the city's police department; the active commissioner at the time had been a guest at one of Dr. Lecter's more recent dinners.

 

It was rather one sided, after all Special Agent-in-Charge Jack Crawford had nothing but respect for the Baltimore Police; city police had their own nightmares and monsters; their own victims and tears. It was one monster in regal trappings compared to child molesters, drug pushers trying to scrape by, and killers of practicality.

 

But in the end, resentment and media attention is the name of the game between Crawford and the new commissioner of Baltimore.

 

That was why Crawford was the _last_ to know about Clarice Starling finding a man's head in the late Raspail's 1938 Packard. A beautiful car one supposes, hidden under years and grime and dirt. He's not terribly surprised she found something so macabre, of course Lecter would make some kind of game of it all. Jack Crawford was not a fool but he was a normal and stressed man playing a game with rules created by a madman that could be changed on whim.

 

Starling was simply a messenger, no more, no less. She doesn't have Miriam's polish, she doesn't have her credentials, she doesn't have Graham's talent or experience, it's all an errand. A thrill for a pretty trainee trying to make something of herself.

 

If he were wiser Crawford shouldhave said no to Starling's request to follow up lead that Dr. Lecter had given her and that he should have had a word with Price for telling Ms. Starling about Raspail's interest in cars. Yet, Crawford gave her a temporary badge and turned his back as she entered the labyrinth, expecting her only to amuse a the doctor by finding nothing. And if she should find something, the BAU or Crawford himself would step in and send her back to school.

 

Now, finding out about a head in the 1938 Packard in Baltimore two hours after it's found is _slow_ in FBI time, _embarrassingly_ slow and a _slight_. But it was to be expected when the locals were in a grudge match with the feds. Added to assembling the team and a battle of Beltway Traffic in two different cars was another three hours added. When Crawford and his team left, the intent was to study the head in the BPD's forensics unit or escort it back to the lab in Quantico. The later seemed the most likely due to the Buffalo Bill situation and the head's connection to a presumptively closed Dr. Hannibal Lecter case. When they arrived Baltimore City Police Headquarters, the team and Crawford found more news. Baltimore County Police department had escorted (dragged) Starling to Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane to question Hannibal Lecter less than an hour ago since he had given her the information in the first place.

 

Apparently the locals were having difficulties.

 

Never had Crawford broken so many traffic violations in his life in the name of the Federal Government, and Agent Katz noted every one when they met in the lobby of the hospital with a wry smile and presented Crawford with a folded up origami swan. "Sour bastard still has a sense of humor, doesn't he Jack?"

 

The bird was crushed and discarded again as he asked Beverly to wait for Starling.

 

Doctor Chilton was apparently _out_ and Crawford was relieved because the _last_ fucking thing he wanted was a happy reunion with _all_ the nutjobs in this God forsaken place. Crawford doesn't catch the name of the night director, but a flash of the badge worked better on him than it ever did on Chilton. The director was also kind enough to inform him that Starling went down to Lecter's cell less than a half hour ago.

 

He rushed down stairs, the security far too slow for his taste as they fumbled with lock and key, but he eventually made it through the labyrinth where a glass entombed cell lies at the heart. It's a long walk from the steel door to the end of the dark hall seperated from the world by steel and diligance, but Crawford saw Clarice Starling sitting at the end of it, partly illuminated by a TV’s light.

 

She sat on the dry side of her coat, feet tucked under her, and a towel clutched between her hands as she peered intently into the darkness before her. Their voices were low, but Crawford could hear the metallic rumble and smoke of Lecter's voice and a clear toned Appalachian drawl. Crawford couldn't see the entire extent of the state of the trainee's appearance other than to judge she was a  _mess_. Starling's pants had the crumpled look of being soaked and the smooth chignon fallen into disaray about her shoulders. Crawford wasn't sure what sparked his ire more; the damp towel clearly labeled as the property of the BSHCI or her sitting akin of Mary Magdalene at the Gates of Hell rather than the foot of the crucifixion.

 

As Crawford made his way down the hallway, footsteps soft, he saw the lights of Lecter's cell shimmer to life and he could make out words in the conversation. He paused to listen.

 

"- my attorney has little power to stop _this_ despite the courts fond inclination towards me." There was a sigh to dismiss the idea. The smoky echo rumbled again, "It's insigifiant to what I really _desire_. I want to be in a federal institution with my books and a view, all of which is considerably valuable to me. I know Agent Crawford may have powers of favor owed to him. He _could_ get me this. Ask him."

 

"I can tell him of what you're offering." Her tone was even, smooth, a counselor's tone indeed.

 

"And he'll ignore you because _informing_ doesn't _require_ acknowledgment by the other party. I'm afraid to tell you that Agent Crawford and I have _quite_ the history together and he often puts his vengeance before the good of society. Billy will just go on and _on_... and I don't think I should be surprised to find that he scalps one." There is a considerable pause, a deep hum of amusement, "Shall I tell you one thing about Buffalo Bill without seeing his case? One little thing that could haunt you years from now if they catch him? May I, _Clarice_?"

 

Starling leaned forward intently, the light of the cell before her caught the red highlights in her hair. "Ye-"

 

" ** _Starling_**!" Crawford's voice boomed down the hall. A voice rose shrilly in one of the cells to answer him but Crawford didn't pay him any attention. He caught a glance from the orderly, reading Epictetus no less, but Jack Crawford didn't pause to answer the silent question. He just moved forward, his steps echoed down the hall and his attention fixated on Lecter and Starling.

 

She turned her head with a startled jolt, her ears red as she recognized his voice and a look of shame shimmered like water across her face. A precocious child caught playing bad by her father.

 

"Clarice?" Came the murmur almost too soft for Crawford to hear. However, Starling heard just fine and her gaze turned back to Lecter, whom Jack couldn't see from his position in the hall. " _Clarice_. Buffalo Bill has a two story house." And then his cell was shrouded with darkness.

 

" _Ms. Starling_ ," Jack already knew he just began a power play between himself and Lecter using Clarice as a pawn, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. Not here. "I need you to go back to the lobby, Agent Katz will be waiting for you to escort you back to the Academy. I shouldn't be taking too long, but this neighborhood can get dangerous at night so it's best not to wait."

 

The trainee gave the barest hint of a slide glance to the darkened cell beside her, the TV's light illuminated her skeptical look well enough with pursed lips. "Of course, Mr. Crawford." Who the fuck was he kidding? They had a bigger monster behind the glass and bars than what the street could provide and they _both_ knew it. But damned if Crawford was going to allow her to sit in front of them when she was clearly exhausted. Her face and pant suit were streaked with dirt and grime and her black pumps were scuffed. "What about the car I was loaned, sir?" Her pale eyes were steady and calm. Crawford wondered if the moment of embarrassment had just been a figment in his imagination.

 

"It's been covered."

 

She sighed, out of relief or disappointment, Crawford couldn't say. She then turned to the cell, "Good night, Dr. Lecter.'

 

The pause held for only a moment before the doctor replied, "Good night, Clarice."

 

Starling unfolded herself up and slung both coat and towel over her arm before she walked down the hallway. Crawford heard her exchange evening pleasantries with the orderly, Barney, and listened until her footsteps were gone.

 

It was silent in that darkened hallway save Crawford's breathing, the cells of the other men oddly still in the darkness.

 

Lecter's voice shattered the air. "Oh, _Jack_ , why are you doing this? Why _another_ student? _Why_? I thought you were really much brighter than this."

 

Crawford turned on heels to squint into the darkness. Lecter was not completely cloaked, pale hands were still visible, the face cast in shadows. It had been two years since Lecter saw sunlight. Crawford wondered how ragged the good doctor had become, if he still had his hair, if he was still lean, lithe, and sleek. "Dr. Lecter, you seriously _do not_ want me to begin right now. You do **not**."

 

"I have to confess I was _nearly_ insulted when I first saw her.” There is a soft chuckle, elegant hands folded on knee. The forearms still sinewy and strong. “At the least Ms. Less knew how to dress within her station; exquisite enough in her own way. Clever, so very clever Ms. Less was. And then you sent me _this_ girl? She's even _younger_ , Jack. She can't be older than 25."

 

"You'd say the same goddamn thing no matter who I'd send, Dr. Lecter.” He took a deep breath, trying to force the conversation away from Starling, “I heard the last snatch of conversation, every word. Notably about what you're willing to accept for information about Buffalo Bill."

 

" _Ah_ , Jack. You know you sent her on purpose; hand picked her in the back of your head. Oh, she's a bit taller than Ms. Less and she has quite the duck feet, I dare say she could fit into _my_ shoes. Those clothes Jack, those _shoes_ \- as well groomed as she pretends to be, she can't afford much better, can she? And her accent is a far cry from Ms. Less and her hair is auburn instead of gold. She's not quite Ms. Less, but she is close enough."

 

" _Don't_ change the subject Lecter,.” Never mind that Jack was desperately trying to do the same thing. “We can flip the light switch on again and you'll have round two with me, understand? Do not fuck around with me or with this kid. She's just a _child_ and my head wasn't straight. Just give me the goddamn information and I'll-"

 

"Your fall from grace was connected to Will's, wasn't it?" The voice sounded like a quiet curl in the darkness. Perhaps Lecter caught a bittersweet memory of the man he had ruined. _Another_ of Crawford's that had been ruined, "You can talk but I don't think I was _entirely_ honest with Clarice on that matter. You don't have anyone in congress in your pocket lately, do you?"

 

" _Barney_ ," Jack swung his gaze to look down at the orderly who merely looked up, expression very mild. His eyes were spaced wide apart but he looked intelligent and the text books that Crawford just noticed attested to that. "Barney, you've got the light control down there, don't you? D'you mind helping a brother out and turning it on?"

 

The orderly licked his thumb before he turned another page in the book. "Begging your pardon Mr. Crawford-" And the orderly had sharp ears to boot, "But we've got five _other_ patients down in here and that light switches _all_ the cells on. There's only one of me in these hours and your entrance spooked the more jittery ones up. Mind you keep your voice down while speaking to Dr. Lecter while on the subject? That'll also make my job easier."

 

Crawford is stunned and silence mocks him before the doctor speaks up, tone remarkably kind. It was a tone he never heard Lecter use outside the cell, "Barney's rather loyal to his employers, Jack. It's nothing personal, you realize. He was very unhappy with the incident with Mr. Miggs. You do realize what Mr. Miggs did to -”

 

"Leave Starling _alone_."

 

"Clarice is _interesting_." Crawford grew cold at the choice of words. Hadn't Lecter used the same words about Will, once upon a time? "I've never seen one of yours so _willing_ to get rumpled for your attention. I suppose it comes with cheap clothes and desperation - though that's the trick, isn't it? Where does this desperation come from? Is she not as talented as Ms. Less or is Clarice simply not as _lucky_?"

 

The anger is  _sharp_ , and if there wasn't glass between them, Crawford would wring the 'exotic' bastard's neck with his bare hands. “Goddamnit, Lecter. You win. You've fucked me and Less over and this little stunt my subconscious made failed. Fucking _rot_ in there with your adult diapers.”

 

"Jack. You're not lumbering off, are you? Is Miriam Less that sacred of patron saint for your revenge? Or are you willing to sacrifice just one girl's time for many? After all, Clarice is polite and respectful; dignified as a girl with cheap shoes and thick accent can be. Her greatest sin is that I could grow _bored_ with her behind this glass – and what am I to do then? Stop talking to her? After all, I didn't kill Less for a whim. She came too close and Clarice is so very, _very_ far away."

 

The anger drained from Crawford, hand going over the more salt than pepper hair on his scalp, "What do you want Lecter?"

 

"If the circumstances are right, and I doubt they'll become that way, I _could_ be inclined to discuss what I know to one person and one person only."

 

"… you _son_ of a _bitch_." The bark isn't nearly as sharp as it should be in his words, "She has the right to decline and she _will_. You'll talk to me, not through her."

 

"Of course she has the right to decline. She's polite because she's respectful not because she's _docile_ ," There's a smile in darkness, "She's suffered a spider's bite and stinks of mouse shit to prove herself worthy - _do_ tell Clarice to get that bite checked out, by the way-. What do you think her answer will be, Jack? Think about it very hard before our Billy strikes again."

 

Crawford turned to walk away, because he was tried of hearing triumph in that son of a bitch's voice. His steps are loud.

 

With Miriam, it was a mistake. With Starling? It's a sacrifice that Jack is ultimately willing to make to a monster behind glass walls.

**Author's Note:**

> Some appearance notes; Clarice's appearance is based on a mix-mash of both Jodie and Julianne's appearances, though a bit taller due to _Clarice_ not being much smaller than Jack or Hannibal in book canon (they're men of average height compared to Laurence and Mads' six feet even). Barney's race (IIRC) is never stated in the book but we're told he has wide set eyes. However in all three movies, Barney is played by an African-American man. Both aspects were blended together as well for this story.


End file.
